


i once loved the stars

by yukends (dowarae)



Series: character study [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Mentions of Blood, Minor Angst, Sicheng-centric, but not really?, kinda poetry?, space imagery, writing style? don't know her, yuta is mostly just mentioned, yuwin if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dowarae/pseuds/yukends
Summary: dong sicheng grieves for so long he doesn't remember what he's grieving in the first place





	i once loved the stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swimception](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimception/gifts).



> an excessive amount of buts and ands are used in this and there’s so many mistakes but :o)
> 
> also this is for my best friend because it's her birthday and i love her so so much

dong sicheng grieves someone who never existed.

he feels the grief like a hole in his chest, bleeding and dripping a millennium of memories all over the floor. the memories stain his clothes and hands with feelings and scents he can’t quite remember, and there’s a name on the tip of his tongue. a name he hasn’t said in so long that he can’t be bothered to count the years the name has sat in his mouth.

then, one day he hears it. a whisper from deep inside the dorm, a quiet  _ nakamoto yuta _ that sounds close enough to a creak that sicheng is almost willing to believe it’s just that: a creak.

but then his chest opens and he’s left standing with planets dripping from his fingers and the remnants of stars in his hair, and the sound of laughter so bright sicheng is blinded. 

but he moves on, giving in to the pattern of life and stages and grueling dance practice. and he almost forgets, the memories drifting to the part of his mind that stays dark, that sicheng is unwilling to allow into the glow of his consciousness. 

he stays like that, static, for so so long. and suddenly he’s breathing the scent of a man he left at the edge of the universe. it assaults his lungs, the smell of destroyed societies and newborn stars. and it begs, for him to  _ remember _ . fills him with a feeling of such longing and  _ loss _ that he’s on the ground gasping for air. but sicheng can’t, he’s lost the ability to feel anything beyond the range of what is considered normal.

and it goes like this, a pattern of almost-remembering mixed with the forced distance. and it begins to have an impact on him, the splitting of two primary aspects of himself has its consequences, which he doesn’t realize until he begins dreaming.

despite his best efforts, the stains on his hands spread. up his arms, holding his throat a way so familiar he feels it in his chest. and when his eyes close, everything within him reaches out for an explanation. a reason for why whenever he closes his eyes he witnesses conversations he’s never had, discussions of futures and not-yet-born planets left with no end. he wakes with a headache and eyes filled with stars that no one comments about.

but sometimes sicheng wakes up so elated he can’t remember how to breathe. everything around him is suddenly so so bright that he keeps his eyes closed. uncontrollable giggles leave his lips, even though he feels empty.

other times, his hands twitch for something he doesn’t believe in. and the ground beneath him rumbles in disappointment and the sky shakes in disbelief. he hears the wind tell the trees  _ almost. _

but there’s one moment when sicheng hears his voice, the lavender and mint words that makes his breath hitch and his heart race. and he sees a flash of dark hair and starlit smiles and a question for forgiveness that he’s left wondering if he ever truly forgot.

for a while, things leave him be. he’s quiet. the wind has no words. the trees keep to themselves, and he’s thankful because he’s provided with time to breathe and the opportunity to think. he tries his hardest to push past the ache in his chest and the ever-present blood on his shirts that only he can see, to understand the meaning behind the flashes of something so familiar sicheng almost cries.

but then, a hand is on his shoulder and he looks up. he’s met with dark eyes and darker hair and a wide smile that tells sicheng  _ it’s time to get going.  _

and in that split second, sicheng witness something spark behind the other’s eyes. and his chest twists and the blood spills, but he doesn’t mind because the boy is warm and comforting and always there. a constant.

it’s in the earliest of mornings that sicheng wakes to the sound of the earth moving, a deep rumbling that echoes throughout his bones and disrupts the pool in his chest and he feels his heart beat. in those moments, it’s as if sicheng fully understands that maybe he isn’t supposed to understand the meaning behind the way the constant ache in his limbs, the feeling of missing some part of himself that is crucial to his survival. 

but time moves on and there’s a week until his debut and everything around him is too bright. has been for weeks, and he almost believes he’s supposed to see something beyond the oversaturation. but he’s left blinking in colours beyond the realm of his comprehension, bombarded by whispers in a language he doesn’t understand.

the week passes quickly and sicheng suddenly finds himself standing on a stage. he’s with eight other boys and he’s bleeding everywhere. more than he’s ever bled before and his ears are ringing. 

but no one notices and they continue on.

that night, sicheng dreams of the pink hue of a sunrise. he dreams of the reflection on the ocean and the way the stars glimmer under his feet. for the first time, he feels complete. as if when he’s watching an ephemeral sun rise, something within him understands that he’s lost something he isn’t sure he’s meant to get back. there’s an air of necessity that comes along with the way things are now, and sicheng doesn’t know how to change it.

but then he wakes and everything goes back to the way it was, the colours calm and the hole in his chest closes. the stains on his hands fade, and he’s left with only the afterimage of red on tan skin. 

however, things that are meant to be, never stay gone. and soon enough sicheng wakes up covered in blood, heart racing to a beat he finds comfort in. this time, someone takes notice to the blood on his hands, his throat, his clothes. a boy who’s there, and not. 

sometimes sicheng swears he feels the pull of a thousand moons within the boy’s gaze. but he’s never sure, and the boy’s never  _ been _ long enough for sicheng to figure it out. so he goes on, shrugging along the weight the boy leaves in sicheng’s chest every time he comes and goes. 

other times, sicheng feels an utter emptiness from the boy. a sense of such  _ longing _ that sicheng can’t decipher his feelings from the boy’s. it’s in those times that the two don’t speak, they just sit watching each other. an attempt to remember and forget all at the same time.

and then sicheng blinks and everything dims.

-

sometimes he goes months without thinking of the feeling of a newborn star in his hand, or the way sunsets mean the birth of a new planet. and it’s during those months that sicheng feels the most lost. so horribly disconnected from himself and everything around him that he doesn’t know what to do. 

but there’s three weeks until the comeback and he has to focus, now more than ever. so, he does. and he feels the crackling of lightning in his bones and the wind tells him  _ not much longer. _

no matter how hard sicheng tries, his thoughts always drift back to a time before this. before he stood upon the ground, when he was still one with space and time. but he doesn’t remember, and he’s stuck beneath a sun he can’t hear, wishing, for some kind of explanation. some kind of  _ memory. _

when it gets to be too much, sicheng turns to the closest person who will listen. asks,  _ have you ever heard the earth breathe?  _ and he’s met with the same look he always is, questioning eyes and a quiet shake of the head. he tries to explain, give more depth to show the feeling in his lungs and the burn in his fingertips, but he can’t find the words and everyone’s already left.

he tries not to be discouraged. but his chest hurts and he’s pretty sure by now the hole must have gone all the way through. leaving a fully open window through sicheng’s chest, that only he can really see. 

he knows the others know it’s there, by the way he catches them quickly looking away from his direction, concern shaping their features. or the way quiet voice become silent when he enters a room. but no one ever acknowledges, no one ever says  _ hey, you’re bleeding on the floor. _ and sicheng thinks he’s okay with that.

because this hole in his chest has become the only way he feels complete, as contrarian as it sounds. he feels closer to knowing  _ why  _ he aches the way he does, closer to an explanation and some sort of imaginary finish line.

when he sleeps, he dreams he’s in the vast expanse of space, drifting. but he’s not lost, he’s never lost. he’s searching, for one specific thing that he’s not sure he’ll find but he looks anyways. and at his side is someone he can’t see. and the feeling is usually the same, but this time it’s different and sicheng’s companion isn’t there and he’s filled with such grief the stars shake. he’s searching and searching, for thousands and thousands of years. calling out  _ nakamoto yuta  _ into the stars, waiting for a reply that’ll never come. and sicheng knows it’s useless; he’s been gone so so long. but still he  _ hopes  _ and  _ wishes _ . he’s never wished before.

sicheng wakes up crying, and it burns. everything burns, he almost convinces himself he’s dying. but he knows he’s not. his heart beat is steady, and his breathing is slow. but his chest burns so badly sicheng wonders if he’s even breathing at all.

by the time the comeback date arrives, sicheng has bled everything there is to bleed. and he’s left with a gaping hole in the middle of his torso, the fragments of what were clinging to every moment his eyes close, every time he blinks.

he feels them pulling, twisting, turning deep inside him, threatening to fully consume if he doesn’t  _ remember.  _ if he doesn’t go  _ home. _ but sicheng doesn’t know where home is. he’s been so many places, at so many different times, he’s not sure where he belongs. but the call he feels deep in his soul doesn’t fade and he’s dancing on the stage feeling distant from himself.

despite his best efforts, he finds himself unable to completely connect with who he was. there’s an air of constant disconnect that follows sicheng around, dimming what used to be so brilliantly bright that he feels almost like he’s stumbling around in the dark. he tries to reach out to the emptiness in his chest, an attempt to reconsider being comfortable with what he knows.

but sicheng can’t find it. he knows it’s there, he’s felt it for long enough to notice if it wasn’t and he also knows that by now he should’ve been able to find it, grasp it. yet, there’s still a shadow of starlight on his palms and there’s sunlight dripping from his fingers and he’s hoping that he hasn’t resisted too much for too long. 

he finds that the longer he spends reaching for the lost piece of him, the more an echo of everything he’s lost reverberates around him. and at night, he’s still stuck in the memory of blinking in the light of a newly born star and how complete he felt standing above it, affection filling his whole being as he looks over to his companion.

and he looks over, meets sicheng’s eyes. says something that sicheng can’t hear because now his ears are ringing and he’s being pulled away from the moment and he feels like he’s being torn apart. 

then he wakes up. and his hands are red and there’s an achingly familiar feeling in his chest that he’s scared to open his eyes. he whispers quietly,  _ nakamoto yuta _ and he feels a shift in the air. 

his eyes open to an empty room and the crushing disappointment overwhelms him.  he was  _ so close _ but now he’s back at the beginning and he’s bleeding once more.

sometimes sicheng finds himself alone, sitting on the balcony. watching the sliver of silver in the sky, trying to find the feeling of familiarity he hasn’t felt in so so long. but he doesn’t find it and he only feels what he’s come accustomed to feeling. and when he looks at the sky he only sees blinking lights and cold darkness.

he knows, somewhere, that that’s where he’s supposed to be but he can’t find his way back because he can’t remember how. blood drips on the floor and he closes his eyes. the wind plays with his hair and the trees whisper in sympathy, just low enough that sicheng can’t hear because he has to find his own way back.

and he still has a little time.

-

it’s several days before he finds himself able to breathe again. he’s sitting in the living room, sipping a lukewarm tea. the dorm is silent. the quietest it’s been since the day sicheng blew a hole in his chest, and he hates it.

he hates it because it feels close to finishing something that’s been going for so long that sicheng has become so used to it that he isn’t sure how he’ll cope with a new beginning. but everything has a start and an end and sicheng doesn’t want to have to accept that.

the quietness of the dorm around him is broken by the creaking of the front door. sicheng turns in his chair, looking back to see one of the members step in. they make eye contact and sicheng blinks.

the boy tilts his head to the side, silently studying sicheng. and then,  _ i think you’re bleeding.  _

and there’s something in the air around them after the words leave his mouth. a glimmer shifting the space between them that sicheng isn’t sure the other can see.

but he knows he can from the way the other’s eyes no longer focus on the hole in sicheng, but rather the gentle tendrils of silver moonlight drifting between them. 

but then sicheng turns around and the other boy walks away and the moment breaks.

and he takes a sip of his tea but it’s too sweet and it’s cold and he thinks by now the pale couch is soaked with his blood.

he finds traces of what he once was no matter where he looks. and as the days get shorter and the wind gets colder he finds less comfort in it than he once did.

before, he’d find a sense of  _ you’ll get there eventually, you’re not finished yet.  _ but now he only sees the hopelessness of centuries of searching for something he can’t remember and he feels that somewhere along this journey he lost an important part of the puzzle.

every time he sees traces of planetary rings circling his head in his reflection, he bleeds all over the floor. staining the brilliant porcelain of the sink in a soft red. 

at this point, all of shirts are ruined and he’s ruined the carpets of the dorms and his head hurts. he’s stuck between keeping his eyes closed and keeping them wide because he can’t tell if everything he sees is too bright or too dark. 

he spends more time outside than usual, listening to the wind excitedly whisper to the trees that  _ soon everything will be the way it’s supposed to be.  _ but sicheng can’t find it in himself to agree because everything feels so off and the colours around him have faded.

but still, he lays and listens to the whispers around him that he aren’t even sure are meant for him to hear. 

and other times everything around him is so quiet that sicheng doesn’t believe they spoke in the first place. and again, a tap on his shoulder and dark hair brings him back to the present.

it’s late late at night the last time sicheng feels the stars call his name. the last time he feels the vast emptiness of space beg for his return and he knows now how it’s supposed to go. because he’s accepted that this is the end for him, that he’s meant to forget and move on. let go of the way things once were and come to terms with the way he is now.

but the hole in his chest tells him he’s wrong, and the trees reach for him to  _ try harder.  _ and the wind gently pushes him onwards but sicheng doesn’t feel the need to because he can’t hear the stars breathing and he can’t hear the sun.

so, what’s the point in trying if there’s nothing there.

he thinks it’ll just be easier to end it there and pretend that none of this ever happened. that’s he’s been this way since the beginning and that he doesn’t remember the way a dying star feels in his palm.

or that the empty feeling surrounded his every isn’t because he’s been searching for something lost for so so long that before all of this he fully believed it was never there to begin with.

but then he’s cornered by dark hair and dark eyes and sicheng bleeds on the floor. and the hand on his cheek feels so familiar that he closes his eyes and leans into the touch and his chest closes and a soft breath of  _ i found you. _ leaves his lips.

and then he’s crying and laughing and he feels so so light that he’s dizzy. but he  _ knows _ now and everything falls into place and everything becomes right.

he meets the boy’s eyes, someone he’s called a friend for so so long, who knows him better than he knows himself and he finds his voice, “yuta,” he whispers. everything rushes back all at once and sicheng’s palms light up with suns and he’s breathing meteor dust.

and yuta smiles, stars glistening beneath his skin, an echo of the moon in his eyes. 

“finally.”

**Author's Note:**

> star eye emoji


End file.
